The part of Zeke that’s going ‘but the part about how he wants me to take his preferences at face value could, itself, be best taken at something other than face value’ engages in a brief battle with the part of Zeke which is a supernaturally horny, unusually impulsive eighteen-year-old. The supernaturally horny section wins.

“... Uh. Does that mean we could have sex, like, right now?”

“Yup! I’d say something like ‘but we’re continuing this conversation afterwards’, but I actually think that’s unnecessary, we’ve covered the obvious potential problems and can probably solve the rest as they crop up!”

“And I can just, like, let loose? You wouldn’t even mind if I drank some of your blood? You’ll be totally fine with whatever I decide to do?”

“- I’d prefer it if you didn’t take enough life force that I’ll be tired at the floor meeting, in three hours, but you can otherwise take as much as you’d like, I heal - and those other two things are definitely fine!”

(They aren’t, quite - there are definitely things that he could concievably decide to do which Caden would be distinctly non-okay with - but they’re unlikely to come up, and Caden has, at this point, learned enough about the Way of Zeke that he’s pretty sure that clarification would result in an apologetic guilt spiral.)

(Caden is, in this respect, a wise, wise man.)

Zeke makes an inarticulate noise of happiness, rolls them both over, and entices a pot of dirt next to the bed such that it produces wooden handcuffs.

Predictable events ensue.

Caden would like to apologize for the narration’s previous use of the word ‘jackhammer’. It was, in that case, hyperbolic.

It has become substantially less so.

This results in a stastically significant increase in rapidly healing bruises, incoherent moaning, gasping, vague pleased noises, and keening! Although the whole ‘face unceremoniously pressed into the mattress’ situation he has going on has a way of muffling it all.

Zeke isn't paying much attention to statistical significance, alas! He is otherwise occupied.

Letting loose apparently includes ‘not politely pretending to have a refractory period’, alongside such standbys as ‘latching onto Caden’s neck and draining copious amounts of EXCESSIVELY YUMMY HOLY SHIT blood’ and ‘pounding Caden’s ass as if he’s trying to hammer through to the other side’.

Caden falls unconscious from life force drain about an hour in. It takes him about an hour and a half to finish.

And then Zeke can undo the handcuffs, toss them in a corner, and: snuggles!

- he kind of came like twenty times, actually, so maybe snuggles can wait until after he makes another bed sheet and a mildly magical rag-weed to clean them up a little -

- okay but now he has to get Caden off the bed in order to change the bed sheet, and he looks so peaceful and cute -

- he spends about ten minutes contemplating the extent to which Caden is cute and staring at him intently, in which time Caden fails to wake up -

- he may have taken a little more life force than he initially intended, Caden’s blood tasted like it’d been mystically optimized for deliciousness at some point - oh crap wait Caden is totally going to be drowsy during the dorm meeting and that’d been, like, the only hard limit he’d set, ugh ugh ugh why can’t he ever just have a nice thing and not overdo it -

- on the bright side: that was the best sex he’s ever had, by a long shot? on the down side: he’s a dick and Caden is going to hate him forever -

- he takes Caden off of the bed they had sex on, puts him on the other bed in the room, takes off the sheets, puts new magically created sheets on, fixes the bed’s newly acquired cracks and the broken headboard with a newly created strawberry-of-instant-wood-repair, puts Caden back on the bed, wipes them both down with a rag-weed, and then: snuggles! Oh wait is snuggling with someone who’s unconscious weird, is Caden going to think that he’s a weirdo - well he can’t just stop, can he, Caden’s so warm and soft and great and perfect and understanding, and he’ll understand why Zeke forgot about the drowsiness thing, right? Right -

Caden takes about an hour, after that, to wake up.

He yawns, shifts position a bit, and engages in sleepy nuzzles.

”... ‘m sorry for bein’ mean,” he says, after a few moments.

This is not the response that Zeke was expecting. 

“... huh?” he says, eloquently.

Sleeeeeeepy nuzzles. 

”... could’nt think a lot, could think a little,” he says, eventually, having gained a drop of coherence. “Thought about what I’d said. Shouldn’t’ve spect... expected, you, t’be perfect? You’re ‘nder loooot of stress. An’ I should’ve worded things softer. Sooofter. Soooooooofterrrrrrrr -”

He makes a vague disgruntled noise.

“Haaaaaaate being drowsy, haaaaate being drunk, bad life force drain tooooo drowsy-drunk. Droowsy-druuuung... unk. Uuuuunk.”

... of course that’s what Caden would say, why is he surprised, Caden is sweet and good and perfect.

“If I get to use ‘stress’ as an excuse, you get to use it too, you know? - and I’m so so so sorry about the life force thing, I actually tried pretty hard to take as little as possible, but that’s still a little per-pint and I got - carried away - your blood is magically delicious, I wouldn’t normally guzzle it down like that, I had to get physically too full in order to stop and I didn’t even know that was a thing? I’ve totally tasted people with magical enhancements and they weren’t that good, and I feel like someone would’ve, like, mentioned it? If it were a mate thing? - I, uh, kinda had sex with you while you were unconscious, for a while, I literally couldn’t stop. So you know.”

”... didn’ know, would’ve old - told you, was prooobably Nicholas? That’s the name of the guy who kidnap me. Kidnapped. Kidnaaaaaaaped. Apt.”

Zeke acquires a vivid mental image of some generically evil-looking vampire forcing an incidentally-chained-up Caden to swallow some generically evil-looking berry, smirking, biting into his neck and fucking him into unconsciousness, just like Zeke just had - he spends a few seconds wondering if the regeneration’s also kidnapper-derived, wondering if that’s how Caden can confidently report that he can tolerate broken bones, before his internal screaming tells his visual imagination to sit down and shut up -

And of course Caden hadn’t known the details, of course he would’ve mentioned, because Caden is, as previously mentioned by the completely unbiased narrator who definitely wasn’t just representing Zeke’s internal monologue, sweet and good and perfect -

“I am going to murder him,” says Zeke, narrowly refraining from adding on unsavory details about how he’d like to murder this ‘Nicholas’ fellow. 

Caden notes that Zeke actually seems serious, this time. 

“... ‘e’s all vampy, ‘n witchy. Won’t stick. Ick. Iiiiiick. An’ ‘e’s old, six ‘undred and fifty, gonna pass on ‘n a decade ‘nyways,” he declares, sleepily, making a vague gesture with his less-snuggled arm.

“Still. Gonna. Murder. Him.”

Caden makes a droopy, ineffective attempt at patting Zeke on the back, and curls up closer.

“We all need ‘obbies... hobbiezzzzzzz...”

It only takes a minute or so for his breathing to become quiet and even and slow, and for him to fall asleep,

Zeke spends the next thirty minutes vacillitating between murderous rage, guilt, contemplation of the fact that Caden probably doesn’t hate him and is also adorable and perfect, and a strong, yet still ignorable desire to resume fucking Caden’s unconscious form and drinking his blood! It was so ridiculously delicious, and they’re both still naked, and Caden’s ass is right there, he’d just have to move his hand down a little and he could squeeze it...

And then he checks the time.

”Uh, Caden?” he says, withdrawing a bit. “The floor meeting’s in, like, five minutes, do you wanna try to go? It’s super understandable if you wanna stay, I don’t think they’re gonna get too dickish if we stay behind and then explain, and you’re probably still really tired, and it probably isn’t a good idea for you to push yourself? But we can try it if you want.”

Caden takes a few moments to flutter back into awareness, but he does seem substantially more alert than when he previously woke up.

”... um, I’d like to apologize again for being sharp with you, this time with added coherence - I could spend an H.F. on getting back to speed, but it seems sort of frivolous, when I’ll be fine in an hour? - are you quite sure that you can’t just go without me, I don’t think that I can walk?”

“I’d totally end up running out in the middle of it to see if you were okay - could I carry you?”

“... it was dreadfully silly of me, in retrospect, to think that I could schedule classes separately from you instead of copying your schedule, I do hope that we have compatible tastes. And am I correct in sensing some manner of ulterior motive?”

“Nope! My motives are totally pure as the driven snow, and I am totally not just trying to publically flaunt our relationship, like, at all. Your motive detector must not be working right.”

“Alas! Next thing you know, I’ll be approached by some manner of bridge salesman, and he’ll swindle me out of my nonexistent fortune in return for two trolls and seven goats - and, um, since I’m actually okay with being carried around, we should almost certainly start dressing -“

“The goats have rabies, and the trolls have fleas, so you can’t even, like, resell them, you’re just totally screwed over - but right, clothes! Clothes are definitely a thing. I kinda ripped the old ones to shreds - but we have this thing of dirt, and I hear that we can use those for all sorts of stuff.” 

He coaxes the dirt into producing a cute little pine tree, which promptly uses its needles to weave two shirts, pants, and sets of underwear: the pine tree promptly dissipates. Zeke de-snuggles, gets out of the bed, tosses Caden his appropriately sized textiles, and starts the process of anti-stripping.

(He’s maybe making the whole thing more slow and sexualized than it has to be, but not by that much, they’re actually pretty low on time.)

Caden is momentarily really distracted by the sight of Zeke’s reverse-stripping - it’s one thing to have someone fuck you into unconsciousness, and another thing entirely to actually look at them. And he still hasn’t gotten off - the pain and anal stimulation had almost been sufficient, but Zeke hadn’t exactly optimized for his prostate -

He does still manage to wiggle into his clothing, after some delay.